Who Left a Dildo in My Bed
CARTER
Inside the Rosewood Athletic Club, I dribbled the basketball across the court and passed it to Liam before gingerly rolling my shoulder to test my mobility. I was still a little sore, but thankfully I’d avoided surgery after my shoulder dislocation, and the doctors seemed pleased with my overall recovery. I’d taken brutal beatings before, but with the dangerous cocktail of drugs I’d been given, I’d spent several days in and out of consciousness while the doctors worked to clear my system. When I finally left the hospital several days later, it was with terrible tinnitus due to a ruptured eardrum and a sore, somewhat useless arm.
Now, I was almost finished with my medical grounding, and while I didn’t mind the break from the tactical missions, it absolutely sucked not being able to fly. The last few months had been frustrating, to say the least, but there was, however, one thing I looked forward to these days.
My long phone calls with Sara.
Some nights, we talked about absolutely nothing, and other nights, I could feel Sara’s walls slowly coming down as she trusted me with more and more. The crazy thing was, I found myself doing the same. Our late night talks had become a lifeline during my recovery, because when we weren’t falling asleep on either endof the phone, my mind was swirling with theories that made my stomach churn, wondering what kind of organization would hunt me—with no fear of retribution.
The problem wasI already knew the answer.
The kind of organization that my father had been in business with. The kind of organization that could possibly influence and infiltrate even the most prestigious government organizations. The kind of organization that could very likely be behind?—
“Damon, pass the ball.” Rowan Belacourte shouted from across the court, shaking me out of my thoughts. Liam stole the ball out from under Damon Kingsley before he could pass it.
“Nice try.” Rowan intercepted the ball from Liam and took his shot. The net swished a moment later. Rowan, was the oldest Belacourte, and was about as ruthless on the court as he was in the boardroom.
I grabbed the ball and headed back down the court. I was trying to take it easy on my healing shoulder, and I was. Mostly. Which meant Liam and I were currently losing by a mile.
“Let’s go, Kensington.” Liam shouted at me in frustration.
“Dude, he’s injured.” Rowan rolled his eyes at Liam as he attempted to steal the ball from me anyway, but I quickly dodged around him and passed it back to Liam, not wanting to strain my shoulder any more than this game already was. I had to get back to work ASAP, and I wasn’t going to fuck that up over a pickup game, no matter how important Liam was currently convinced it was.
Liam took the ball the rest of the way down the court, and the net swished as the ball went in.
“That’s game.” Damon panted, half folded over, hands on his knees while sweat poured off him.
I shook my hair out, a spray of sweat flying off me. It felt good to get some exercise. Slowing down had absolutely wrecked me these last few months.
The gym doors opened a moment later and Eva, Rowan’sother half, came into the gym looking like she was about to pop as she neared the last weeks of her pregnancy.
“How’s she doing?” Damon asked Rowan, watching Eva slowly waddle over—she stopped to talk to someone in the bleachers.
Rowan shook his head, a wary look passing over his face. “She’s hanging in there, baby’s healthy, Eva’s healthy. That’s all I can ask for.”
I raised a brow, and Liam shook his head and shrugged. “No idea.”
Rowan jogged over to Eva, giving her a sweaty peck on the lips that made her turn her nose up while he grinned.
Damon pulled his shirt over his head and wrung it out. “How long you home for?”
“Just this weekend.” I crushed an entire bottle of water, wishing it were still cold.
“Damn, I was hoping to connect you with one of my contacts.”
“You know I’m not coming back.” I countered.
“Don’t bullshit me.” Damon panted, “I know you’ve got one foot in, one foot out.”
“Dame.” I groaned. “Seriously? Not you too.”
He shrugged, “You’ve gotta stop running sometime.”
“I’m not running.” I headed towards my bag on the bleachers.
“Sure you’re not.” Damon said, walking backwards towards the gym doors. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got an investor meeting, but it’s really good to have you home. Let’s do this again.”
